"Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur immediately tenses and bristles. Two weeks into his arrival at the company and already Jones is breaching contract? He turns from his new colleagues at the reception, spinning around to greet his contracteur. Only it's not Jones.

At least not the Jones he expects.

Alfred Jones the Senior smiles at him. Raises his hand. "Mr. Kirkland. Welcome to the family."

Arthur slowly takes his hand and shakes it. His grip is not the same as his son's. It's firm but congenial. Not with an edge of threat to it. The man himself is much the same way. Built like his son, or rather, his son is built like him - blond, tall, strong, chiseled. The All-American entrepreneur. Arthur can see the man that Jones is to be once he loses his boyish features and if he bothers with contacts. That's what can immediately be gleaned from any odd picture. However, what a picture cannot capture is the aura of confident command about him, from the subtlety of his eyes and the cadence to his words. He is the captain of a ship built by his own two hands.

It takes Arthur's breath away and all he can think is 'Ah, this is where Jones gets it.'

A half-second too late, Arthur replies, "Thank you, Mr. Jones. I'm honoured to be here." He suddenly feels a pair of eyes on him and he doesn't even need to see who it is.

"It's good to have someone here from across the pond. I hope you are able to give us some fresh perspectives. You came to us from Burberry, is that right," Jones Senior asks, making polite small talk. Though it gives Arthur a jolt of adrenaline that the man on Forbes himself knows him by name. "Have you settled in?"

"Oh, I've hit the ground running," Arthur assures him, taking a quick sip of his champagne to lubricate his nerves.

"Good, good. Oh, Mr. Kirkland, have you met my son?" the CEO asks, waving over the Jones Arthur is far more familiar with. He'd somehow drifted over closer to them in their brief chat, like a hyena lurking in the shadows to scavenge. Jones, of course, looks immaculate in his signature black suit, black shirt and purple tie. Arthur can smell the Jack Daniels neat, contrasting his father's champagne flute, darker, sharper. He cannot help but compare, the two Jones side by side. "This is Alfred Jones Junior."

"Father, I don't care for the Junior suffix," his Jones says cooly, brushing his violet dyed lock out of his eyes. "I prefer 'the Second.' It implies legacy. Junior implies inferiority."

"Oh my apologies. This is Alfred Jones the Second," the CEO replies, clearly indulging his nineteen year old son.

"We've met," Arthur says, holding out a hand to shake Jones' hand. "He held my final interview. It's nice to meet you again." Jones takes his hand and it's different than before. Sharper, painful. So shaken. Arthur hides a wince at the sheer force.

What has Jones is such a tizzy?

Arthur's mind goes back to the contract and being sworn to absolute secrecy on pain of financially-crippling legal suits. Is it not the general public that Jones is worried about? His J-pop fans? Is it in fact, this hegemon before them? It would make sense. Jones has so much more to lose...

But it's not just that. His other life, his other experiences tell him so. Jones is being... territorial.

"Junior will be taking on an number of responsibilities at the company," his father says. "Particularly in regards to this Magical Strike movement that has been developing. You've heard of it, yes?"

"Ah, yes. We were rather close to it in England," Arthur replies, watching the way Jones clenches his jaw. "Of course, it started in France. It sounds like they took the whole Corpocracy chapter from Cloud Atlas as some kind of prophecy."

The CEO chuckles and Arthur cracks a pleased smile. However, Jones only looks blank. "Oh come on now, son. You've never read the book?" his father admonishes him.

"I was a bit busy learning Japanese and working on my singing career," Jones replies, his voice tight and controlled.

"A waste of time," the CEO replies. "You could have at least learned Mandarin instead. And you insist on wearing that streak of purple in your hair. It's unprofessional."

Arthur feels his throat tighten and grow thick. What is this? Why is this being discussed in front of him? With a flash of insight, he knows this really has nothing to do with him. It has everything with admonishing his son in front of any employee of relatively little importance. It's a power play, meant to cut Jones down to size. He's just a pawn in a bigger game.

Even as he's thinking this, Jones glances at his father and replies, "謝謝。我會採取這一考慮下。"

Despite himself, a swell of triumph fills Arthur's chest. It's so difficult to keep from smiling, but he manages - only just. The urge drops completely as he looks up from his glass to see the CEO's expression grow cold. It was a step too far. Jones shouldn't have pushed back. Not like this.

For the sake of peace, Arthur withdraws. "Well, it's a pleasure to talk to you. However, I have a meeting with Laos in an hour. Please excuse me." Turning away, he feels the first fracture in his separation of play and work crack. He shouldn't be taking sides in this. Especially not against the CEO. Yet he cannot help it.

After all, Jones might be a sadist, but he isn't cruel.